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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24594907">Falling Into Hope</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/SHSLAnonymous/pseuds/SHSLAnonymous'>SHSLAnonymous</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, Dangan Ronpa: Trigger Happy Havoc</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>F/M, Spoilers</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-06-07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-06-07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 07:02:17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>4,464</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24594907</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/SHSLAnonymous/pseuds/SHSLAnonymous</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>DR1, from Kirigiri POV; mild liberties taken. Depicts snippets of events of her encounters with Naegi from the beginning of DR1 until the moment she falls. Follows canon.</p><p>In which Kirigiri's heart goes baDUMP and her head goes "who what when where I didn't hear anything" until the plot don't let her no more.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Kirigiri Kyoko/Naegi Makoto</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>62</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Falling Into Hope</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>***</p><p>A splitting headache, eyes opening to a blurred view of a wooden surface. A desk...? Where was she? Empty desks surrounded her; nobody else appeared to be around. A blackboard at the front of the room signified it was likely a classroom. Sitting up and massaging her temple, she recognizes the feeling of leather against her skin.</p><p>Wearing gloves? Huh. She had gloves on? She looked down to the rest of her attire. A leather jacket, red tie, a skirt, and knee-high boots. Was this...really a school uniform? Did school uniforms ever include gloves? Her hands felt somewhat uncomfortable in them. She decides to take one off.</p><p>She freezes.</p><p>The sight of her hand unearths a deep sense of terror in her. Her hand had sustained terrible burns, red and cracked, and was nearly unrecognizable as a human hand. She turns it over, inspecting it, a knot in her stomach curling.</p><p>What happened? When did she get this?</p><p>She blinks, drawing up a blank. There was no way she could have forgotten how she had gotten this injury; the pain must have been unimaginable. However, even as dread and terror welled up within her, she could not remember where this injury had come from.</p><p>How did this...?</p><p>Something deep lurches within her. A reminder. This was a reminder of something terrible. It was the mark of a mistake she had made. She could not remember the exact details, but this scar was a warning. Never let emotional attachment cloud your judgement. Emotional attachment...to whom? What had happened? A fog hangs over her mind, the answer seemingly just out of grasp. Not long afterwards, the feeling fades, and the answer slips away.</p><p>She felt herself let out a breath and her chest heaves in and out. She must have forgotten to breathe.</p><p>She slips the glove back on immediately. Slipping her finger under her other glove, she tentatively runs her finger over her other hand. It seems to be in the same state. She takes a deep breath and sighs, a palm to her forehead.</p><p>Upon deeper reflection, she realizes that she cannot remember a great many things about herself.</p><p>Amnesia. Not the best situation.</p><p>Looking about the room, she spots a sheet of paper on the front podium.</p><p>She gets up from the desk and walks up to it. On the paper, a rather messy image of what appeared to be buildings drawn in crayon greets her, with an untidy scrawl accompanying it.</p><p>'Hey there Kyoko! The next semester is about to start. Starting today, this school will be your entire world.'</p><p>The piece of paper hardly seemed professional. And "Kyoko"...? Was that her name? She frowns in concentration.</p><p>Kyoko...<br/>
It did have a familiar ring.</p><p>She blinks several times, scowling. Something rises up into her consciousness as if floating up from the depths of a murky body of water.</p><p>Kirigiri Kyoko.</p><p>Ah, yes, that's her name.</p><p>---</p><p>“Super Duper High School Level” ... "Ultimate" something or other.</p><p>It seems everyone had been attending this high school. She could only assume the same for herself. And apparently everyone has a specific talent that granted them admission to the school.</p><p>She could not remember what hers had been.</p><p>Hand on her chin, she silently watches the other students introduce themselves to each other. She searches for a pattern in the other students’ talents. Perhaps they'd give her a clue as to what her own talent was.</p><p>A baseball player, a swimmer, a martial artist—...</p><p>Perhaps this school was a sports school? Had her talent something to do with sports?</p><p>...An idol, a novelist, a fan fiction writer, a fashionista...</p><p>Ahh, not only sports, but performing arts, liberal arts...?</p><p>...A programmer...</p><p>Hm, more general and technical fields...?</p><p>...A moral compass, a biker gang leader, a gambler, an heir, a fortune teller, and...luck...?</p><p>“H-hi...! I-I’m uh, Naegi Makoto. Nice to meet you...”</p><p>She's starting to feel less certain that this train of thought would help her narrow anything down regarding her own talent. At this point, it seems that for this school, anything goes.</p><p>“Um— what’s your name?”</p><p>What type of talent was luck? Was that really a talent...? She briefly wonders whether she herself even had a legitimate talent now that she had forgotten so much of what was crucial to her identity.</p><p>“...U-uhm...” The boy seems to be fidgeting uncomfortably in front of her.</p><p>Oh. He is talking to her. What had he asked? Right, her name. Her name.... Yes.</p><p>“...My name is...Kirigiri Kyoko.” She looks to the side as she speaks, still deep in thought.</p><p>“O-oh! Nice to meet you, Kirigiri-san! Um, what’s your talent?”</p><p>She doesn't answer immediately. It would probably be best not to reveal that she did not know. She isn't interested in attracting unnecessary mistrust or suspicion, nor did she feel the need to reveal a weakness that none of the others appeared to share.</p><p>"...Why should I tell you?"</p><p>"Huh...? Well...I guess you don't have to tell me."</p><p>"No, I don't have to tell you. So I'm not going to."</p><p>She decides to leave it at that. She will need to investigate the school after this, to search for more clues regarding herself.</p><p>Fortunately after an awkward silence, the boy did not prod further and sidled off, leaving her to her thoughts.</p><p>***</p><p>Kill someone to escape from this school?</p><p>What was the motivation behind such a demand?</p><p>The fear displayed openly on the others’ faces did her no favors. She did not know what the others were capable of, and could not trust them. She was particularly at a disadvantage, as she did not know her own background whereas others apparently did. She was alone in her amnesia.</p><p>Her heart pounded, and she felt the acidic spark of adrenaline running through her.</p><p>
  <em>Fear. </em><br/>
<span>She was feeling fear. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She kept her expression neutral, however. She could not show her weakness. Showing weakness would welcome a swift death. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She resolved to figure out as much as she could about their current situation on her own. It was best to act carefully, and to keep her cards close to her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>***</span>
</p><p>“<span>H-hey! Can I ask you something? ...I figured it would be a good idea to get to know everybody better.” The boy approaches her in the hallway outside of the dorm rooms. </span></p><p>
  <span>She glares at him coldly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She’d rather not; she was about to give her room a fourth look over, in case she missed anything. At the same time, she admitted that she had already been quite thorough, and thus far had not gleaned much information about herself. Clues regarding her own identity were sparse. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Perhaps she was simply running away by trying to hide in her room. And that would not do.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She stares at the boy in front of her, assessing him carefully. Indeed, she could gather some information about him to gain some ground in their predicament without having to expose anything about herself. If things reached uncomfortable territory, she could simply leave. It seemed reasonable.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And she can see him quite literally shaking with nerves under her glare, although he held his ground. </span>
</p><p>“<span>...Sure, I’m not particularly busy at the moment.”</span></p><p>
  <span>The boy’s face lights up. She blinks. Relief spreads through his face immediately, to such an extent that it surprised her. Acutely aware of the surprise she was feeling, she took care not to let any of it show in her own expression. He, on the other hand, was so open about his emotions, to the point it was somewhat concerning. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Someone could easily take advantage of him, and in this environment that could end badly. </span>
</p><p>“<span>You certainly wear your heart on your sleeve.”</span></p><p>“<span>Wha—”</span></p><p>“<span>It’s dangerous to lay your emotions out in the open.”</span></p><p>“<span>B-but, aren’t you scared, too?”</span></p><p>“<span>...Of course I am. But I hide it better than you. You could afford to keep your emotions inside; someone could take advantage of you otherwise.”</span></p><p>“<span>Ah...hahah, I’ve never really been good at that...”</span></p><p>
  <span>So it seems. His demeanor was becoming pretty clear to her.</span>
</p><p>“<span>Uhm, so I wanted to ask you about yourself—“</span></p><p>
  <span>Ah. She'd learned enough for now. The conversation was reaching dangerous territory. She turns her back to him.</span>
</p><p>“<span>You can find everything you need in the school handbook. Profiles for all students are listed inside.” Her tone is cold. </span></p><p>“<span>Oh...oh, I mean—“</span></p><p>
  <span>At this point she decides it best to leave the conversation. She enters her dorm and closes the door behind her, leaving Naegi standing alone outside of her dorm room before he can protest.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>***</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She sits alone at a table in the cafeteria.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She went over what she knew thus far. All windows and exits were blockaded; access was restricted to the first floor. Supplies and provisions were provided. She made a mental note that she should take a closer look at the mechanisms involved in their replenishment. Last she checked, Monokuma was not particularly present in any of the supply areas. Perhaps the mechanism was automated. </span>
</p><p>“<span>H-hi, Kirigiri-san.”</span></p><p>
  <span>And the laundry room. There were precisely seven washing machines in the laundry room. No dryers were present; clothing was hung to dry. Conveniently, this made wet clothing a possible article to look for in a murder that spilled blood. A careless perpetrator may attempt to wash their clothing to rid them of bloodstains.</span>
</p><p>“<span>Kirigiri-san?”</span></p><p>
  <span>Oh. Someone is calling her name. It's him again.</span>
</p><p>“<span>Yes, Naegi-kun?”</span></p><p>“<span>I wanted to give you this. Th-there was something I wanted to talk to you about...”</span></p><p>
  <span>He presented her with a cup of coffee. From its exquisite fragrance, it was the blend she had come to prefer during their time here. </span>
</p><p>“<span>How did you know this was ...”</span></p><p>
  <span>She pauses. They had interacted multiple times now, despite her having blown him off many times. He was almost hopelessly optimistic, and considerate to those around him, so the fact that he had taken notice of her preferences was not entirely surprising. She decides it would be fine to be a bit more gentle with him. </span>
</p><p>“<span>...Thank you.”</span></p><p>
  <span>She takes the cup into her hands.</span>
</p><p>“<span>Did you prepare this yourself?”</span></p><p>“<span>Y-yeah, hopefully it’s good.”</span></p><p>
  <span>She looks around the room. Celes, Fujisaki, Yamada, and Asahina are around. Several witnesses, and he had just declared he made this cup of coffee. She pauses for a moment. It was probably safe, although the others also currently just happened to be out of earshot.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Naegi looks up at her. He seems to notice her looking around the room, and then seems to become flustered. </span>
</p><p>“<span>I-it’s not poisoned! I...I can drink it first--here--” </span></p><p>
  <span>As he fumbles with a small spoon, she muses that he’s rather observant, more than she’d given him credit for. She studies him as he quickly ladles a small amount from her cup, and places it in his mouth. Her eyes trail down to his neck; his Adam's apple bobs up and down. Her eyes rest their gaze back on his face, and they make eye contact. He flushes after a moment under her unwavering scrutiny. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"S-sorry! I should have tested it before giving it to you!"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Indeed, he seems perfectly healthy. She closes her eyes and smiles slightly. "I haven't even said anything yet, but I appreciate your consideration." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She opens her eyes to evaluate his response. Naegi somehow manages to redden even further, and she spots his hand moving up to scratch the side of his neck. His nervousness is on such open display that a dissection of his expression wasn't even necessary. Normally, she would take that as reason to be alarmed, but something about his awkward bumbling was simply too clumsy to be cause for worry. Somewhat amused, she looks down at the cup in her hands, and takes a sip. The flavor is rich and fragrant. </span>
</p><p>“<span>It’s perfect.”</span></p><p>
  <span>At this point, around him, it was starting to feel like her caution was not really necessary and was just out of habit. Of course, it never hurt to be careful. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And quite honestly, it was somewhat enjoyable, watching him get flustered. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He begins to speak, nervously. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"So um, I never did find out what your talent was."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ah. He is curious about her talent. At this point she might as well be open about it; if anything, he might know something she didn't. She answers honestly.</span>
</p><p>“<span>I don’t remember.”</span></p><p>“<span>What?! But then...doesn’t your ID—”</span></p><p>“<span>It doesn’t list it either.”</span></p><p>“<span>O...oh....” </span></p><p>
  <span>He looks deflated for a period. After a pause, he looks back up at her, and she is almost caught off guard by the hopeful glint in his eye. </span>
</p><p>“<span>Well, I hear that things like memory loss can wear off with time. Maybe you’ll remember eventually!”</span></p><p>“<span>Hmm. Perhaps.”</span></p><p>
  <span>That was true. Fragments of her memories would return periodically whenever she encountered something that helped trigger it. Perhaps it wasn’t so urgent. Her memories may come back when the correct situation presents itself.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>***</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She sits down on the bed in the privacy of her dorm room.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Naegi...He really believes everyone could work together to escape. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She wasn’t sure what to do with his hopeless optimism, but she could not deny that it affected her, too. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Despite how little she knew about the situation and her own amnesia, or perhaps because of it, his clumsy honesty and complete lack of guile was oddly comforting. Somehow, whenever he was around, she found herself daring to feel some sense of hope that things would be fine. Those feelings of optimism seemed to radiate from him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She shakes her head slowly, smiling to herself, lying down and closing her eyes as she went to sleep for the night. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was a fool. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>...But not in a bad way. </em>
</p><p>
  <span>A fool like him could make her smile in the midst of this killing game. She might be a fool too, she thought to herself. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It certainly wouldn't hurt, however. It's entirely possible to keep one’s guard up while hoping for the best at the same time.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>***</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Class Trial.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Despite his naïveté, and despite his timid demeanor, he fought. Valiantly. He spoke clearly, without hesitation, seeking the truth. He forged forward, even when the truth was ugly, terrifying, and condemned the very friend he believed in earlier. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She was surprised, but relieved. With only a small amount of guidance from her, he was able to find so much of the truth himself, and was willing to look it in the eye. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She wondered how he could still hope despite the terrible truth, as he unveils the full details of the crime to the rest of their classmates. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She watches him, transfixed by the determination in his eyes. His courage is remarkable.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>He is shining. </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Or so it seemed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She inhales sharply. Ah. She had been holding her breath.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>***</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She notes with mild amusement that Togami was directing Naegi through the investigation of this case.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Perhaps Naegi's determination had made Togami recognize his value as someone capable of steering the flow of trials. Perhaps he wishes to see how far he could extend his influence with Naegi at his side. Or perhaps Naegi's hope had affected the heir as well. Whatever the reason, she couldn't blame Togami for wishing to work more closely with Naegi after his admirable performance in the first trial.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>In any case, this arrangement allows her more freedom to investigate on her own as she saw fit. It was beneficial to her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It did not bother her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Not at all.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>Really.</em>
</p><p>
  <span>***</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Naegi was becoming someone she felt she could trust. He was reliable, and she could sense no ulterior motives behind his eagerness to help. He was honest, straightforward, and even when he tried to hide anything, she could read him like an open book.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>This was why his recent behavior was starting to bother her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Is there something you're hiding?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Naegi visibly jumps, and turns around. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"O-oh!! Kirigiri-san! I-I didn't realize you were there!"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His suspicious reaction answers her question immediately. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She smirks inwardly. He couldn't lie successfully; she knew him quite well. She'd shake it out of him. It wouldn't even take very long.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She shoots him the most withering glare she could muster.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"If there is something you should tell me, please do. I've already told you what I know. We both agreed we would share all of our findings."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She sees him quaking under her searing gaze. Good. He starts to speak, and she listens intently.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I-I...uhm. ..." he fumbles with his fingers, staring at the floor. With apparent difficulty, he looks up to meet her gaze. He flinches, and then breathes deeply, closing his eyes. When he opens them, he gazes back at her, matching her glare with a determination that arrested her. Just momentarily.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I'm sorry-!! ....I'm sorry, Kirigiri-san, but...I can't. Not yet." he speaks resolutely, with the same firmness she had come to admire.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was not what she wanted to hear, however. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Didn't they agree to trust each other? She had given her information to him. She </span>
  <em>trusted </em>
  <span>him, and that trust was not something she would give away easily. Had she misread him? </span>
</p><p>
  <em>She kept her promise. Why can't he keep his? Is he playing her for a fool?</em>
</p><p>
  <span>Agitation begins to rise up in her chest, before a smouldering fire flares up in her head, clouding her thoughts. She could feel her pulse in her temple, her breaths quickening. Her fist clenches at her side. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fine. He wouldn't trust her. She shouldn't trust him. That was how he wanted it. She could always go back to how it was before. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"It's fine. Goodbye."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She turns around quickly. She didn't want to see him anymore right now. She barely heard him calling her name behind her, beyond the churning fog clouding her senses. She didn't stop, and continued walking until he was out of earshot.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>***</span>
</p><p>
  <span>For a while, she avoided him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>A strong feeling began to boil within her every time he crossed her field of vision. It was unpleasant.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>He wanted it this way, anyway. It was what he had asked for.</em>
</p><p>
  <span>***</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When she discovers the reason for his silence, she couldn't forgive him right away. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She already had enough trouble admitting to herself that she was relieved that he hadn't meant it as a personal affront to her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>***</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Night time.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kirigiri stares at the ceiling from her bed. Thoughts of Naegi cross her mind.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She had been thinking about him a lot lately.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>However, ever since she found out why he had been holding out on her, thinking of him did not cloud her mind with anger.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She took the chance to reflect upon their recent interactions, and how she had brushed him off every time he had tried to approach her after his initial refusal to share the secret he had kept. With a twinge of guilt, she remembers from the very beginning how often she had refused to answer his inquiries without a single apology, while he readily apologized the one time he chose not to share with her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She closes her eyes, scowling. She admits she had been unfair to him. Perhaps she should apologize. ...</span>
  <em>Yes,</em>
  <span>she needed to apologize.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Normally, she doesn't let emotion cloud her decision making. Why had she acted this way?</span>
</p><p>
  <em>Naegi Makoto.</em>
</p><p>
  <span>She blinks. Naegi Makoto? She pictures Naegi's face in her mind, and on his face is a look of determination. *That* look. The one that could never leave her head. Resolve, faith, confidence, his expression radiating optimism.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was the same look that had put silly ideas of hope into her head. The same that drove her into an irrational state of anger. How? That same image brought such conflicting emotions to the surface of her mind.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was confusing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thinking about him for too long was making her head spin. She could feel her heart racing. It was uncomfortable.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She takes a deep breath and sighs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She wasn't getting anywhere. It was best to get some rest. She was exhausted.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>***</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kirigiri and Naegi are alone in the nurse's office. This is the opportunity to apologize that she had been waiting for. However, despite herself, being in his presence stirs a sense of turmoil within her. She settles for staring fixedly at the labels of the blood transfusion packets, trying to calm herself down by counting the number of packets available for each blood type. Most were type O, unsurprisingly. She could feel his eyes on her; he fidgets in the corner of her vision.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"...Are you still mad...?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She is silently thankful that he spoke first.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"It's...fine."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Huh...?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He seems confused. Perhaps she'll drop a hint.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"About that issue we discussed earlier... It doesn't matter anymore," she says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His eyes grow reproachful.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Then...do you forgive me for not being able to talk about it...?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hah. He has the gall. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You chose not to tell me because you weren't certain of what you saw, and did not want others to draw conclusions prematurely."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He rubs the back of his head.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Y-yeah."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kirigiri's eyes make contact with his. Her gaze is stern.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I wouldn't have expected such arrogance from you."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Naegi looks up at her in surprise.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"What?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He's looking at her now. Her eyes narrow.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Because ultimately, you demonstrated that you don't trust me."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Naegi seems to become flustered, bringing his arms up in what appeared to be an attempt at surrender.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"N-No, that's not it... But if that's how you feel, I can't really change your mind. I'm sorry..."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her tension deflates somewhat, having vocalized some of her frustration. She sighs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"It's fine. I've already forgotten about it. Besides..."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Here comes the hard part. Kirigiri swallows. She finds herself looking back at the blood packets again, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear. Blood is warm, 37 degrees Celsius, 98.6 degrees Fahrenheit. She feels the room become warmer. Thirty seven degrees? No, higher than that, it's sweltering. Thirty nine, forty...no, maybe forty two...</span>
</p><p>
  <em>Just say sorry.</em>
</p><p>
  <span>"I may have...overreacted."</span>
</p><p>
  <em>...Ah. Well. Close enough.</em>
</p><p>
  <span>"Huh...?" Naegi perks up, a disbelieving tone in his voice. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Did he really not hear her? His curious eyes are on her, and she can feel the heat in the room becoming suffocating. The feeling of her heart thundering in her chest is overwhelming. He's looking for clarification. Could she do it? No, she doesn't have it in her to repeat herself. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was time to employ a tactical retreat.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Anyway, it's over and done with. Like I said, let's just forget about it." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Despite her vagueness, Naegi seems to have understood, as he visibly relaxes. It mirrors the feeling of her own nerves settling.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She dares to gaze up at him, and he meets her gaze with a radiant smile. Her breath catches, her thoughts scattering just briefly.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>That's a relief.</em>
</p><p>
  <span>Only briefly. She remembers she has business to discuss with him regarding the nature of the school they were trapped in.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>***</span>
</p><p>
  <span>***</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her mouth is dry. She has no words to speak.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The conveyer belt rolls, machinery behind it smashing an enormous weight down on whatever passes under it on the conveyer belt repeatedly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>On the belt is Naegi Makoto, gradually being shuttled towards his demise.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She had been focused on making sure that the Mastermind would not win their game. She had been so certain that she was being targeted, she did not think anyone else could be in danger. Her lie had put him there. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>This was her fault.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her stomach feels like ice; her throat feels like it had caught a lump that she could not swallow.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As the conveyer belt brings him closer to his death, a caustic pit rises from her stomach to her chest. She can't breathe. With every slam, she feels powerless as she watches the inevitable approach. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And then she sees it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>No...</em>
</p><p>
  <span>Her gut recoils. They are </span>
  <em>those </em>
  <span>eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>No, no...!</em>
</p><p>
  <span>She felt a pang of guilt. Even now, they shone with optimism, determination. Hope.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>No, no, no, stop this...! </em>
</p><p>
  <span>He passes under the weight, and it rises, readying to slam down once again. The acrid feeling of dread writhes, moving from her chest into her heart. It festers, corroding, her heart feeling raw. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>NO! Stop! </em>
</p><p>
  <span>And from outside the walls she had built to protect herself, for the first time she hears her heart, tearing through the walls, crying, screaming into her mind. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>Stop!! Please! Please...! </em>
  <em>
    <b>Please....</b>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>
    <span>As something within her desperately reaches out to grasp at the hope still radiating from his eyes, she suddenly recognizes a voice that she had been ignoring. She stares in stunned silence, eyes widening with realization. </span>
  </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <b>PLEASE! Please...don't kill him...!</b>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>
    <span>Finally, she understands. </span>
  </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <b>Don't...don't take him away....</b>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>
    <span>Finally. </span>
  </span>
  <em>
    <span>Finally, </span>
  </em>
  <span>
    <span>when it is too late.The weight reaches the apex of its arch. Unable to watch, she shuts her eyes, and his radiance is blotted out by the darkness of despair.</span>
  </span>
</p><p>
  <strike>
    <em>
      <b>I love him.</b>
    </em>
  </strike>
</p><p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>***</span>
    </span>
  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>***</span>
    </span>
  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>***</span>
    </span>
  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>The final slam never came.</span>
    </span>
  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>She opens her eyes and watches, bewildered, as the weight comes to a grinding halt. Naegi looks up in confusion.</span>
    </span>
  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>The conveyer belt continued, and Naegi yelps in surprise as he falls backwards into the trash chute. </span>
    </span>
  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>
    <em>
      <span>What? ...Was this...was this supposed to happen? </span>
    </em>
  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>Monokuma's cursing verified it likely was not intended. She lets out a breath she had been holding.</span>
    </span>
  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>
    <em>
      <span>The execution failed.</span>
    </em>
  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>She jerks, as if snapping out of a trance. Her eyes scan over the execution stage. </span>
    </span>
  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>He had just fallen down a trash chute. The fall wouldn't exactly be gentle. His hands were bound, too. He wouldn't be able to escape by himself. But it was very possible he was still alive.</span>
    </span>
  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>
    <em>
      <span>He needed help.</span>
    </em>
  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>Her mind set, Kirigiri immediately turns away from the execution site, leaving her classmates still recovering from the shock. She was going to make the preparations necessary.</span>
    </span>
  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>
    <em>
      <span>She had to get down there. She had to make sure he was safe.</span>
    </em>
  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>***</span>
    </span>
  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>She tosses a large bag of fabric and cushioning packed in a trash bag down the chute. She waits and listens. She hears the distinct sound of the plastic shifting along a metallic wall as it falls.</span>
    </span>
  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>Two... three... four... five... --</span>
    </span>
  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>She hears a thud about six seconds afterwards. The fall doesn't seem ... too bad. It sounded like it wouldn't be a free fall the whole time, given the bag could be heard colliding with the wall as it traveled down. The chance that Naegi was alive was decent. </span>
    </span>
  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>Clutching a bag with a bottle of water and bread in hand, she gazes into the darkness, and her features harden. </span>
    </span>
  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>The darkness does not intimidate her.</span>
    </span>
  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>Just past that darkness was the promise of hope.</span>
    </span>
  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>
    <em>
      <span>I'm coming, Naegi.</span>
    </em>
  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>She steps off the edge, and she falls.</span>
    </span>
  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>***</span>
    </span>
  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>~ Fin</span>
    </span>
  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>***</span>
    </span>
  </span>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>AN1:<br/>She technically fell much earlier.</p><p>AN2:<br/>Standalone italicized lines represent that tiny voice she frequently neglects to acknowledge.</p><p>AN3:<br/>Cup noodles.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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